We ended up with a beautiful room at Hôtel du Manoir Cunningham, a cross-timbered 17th-century mansion converted into an inn, so we were determined to make the most of our morning there. We biked into Saint Servann (originally another town, now glommed onto Saint-Malo) for croissants and coffee and brought them back to eat on our balcony overlooking the harbor. The Ouibike folks had niftily left Cheryl’s second rental bike at our hotel the evening prior, so we grabbed our two-wheeled buddies when it was time to head for the train station and were off.
The train to Coutances was a detour that became necessary when the ferry debacle happened: I realized we could take advantage of SNCF’s efficient rail service to recover at least part of the day’s riding I had planned down the west coast of the Cotentin region. (It turned out SNCF was perhaps a little *too* efficient, but more on that in good time.) We went through the usual shenanigans involved anytime you try to organize multiple the bikes of multiple riders getting off at different stops in a tiny train-car space. However, I have found this exercise generally just leads to making new friends: in this case we met a Parisian programmer heading to bike the coast near La Rochelle and a couple of retired dudes headed over to Caens.
We had a lovely short layover in Dol-de-Brétagne, where we bought palets Bretons for Cheryl’s colleague, picked up some cheese for lunch from a fromagerie, downed yet another kouign-amann, and goggled at the cross-timbered town center with its passage named after the Stuart dynasty (who, at least according to locals, was actually Breton on one side). We caught our second train out of Rennes with no problem and, when the time came, extricated our bikes with the help of the Caens riders and hopped down around 1:30 in Coutances.
Which, of course, was straight up a steep hill. By now I should know better–that any town with the word “medieval” anywhere near it is on top of a hill, no matter how flat the surrounding countryside may be. I think this was simply a historical process of trial and error: I’m sure everybody tried building their towns first down by the river where it was flat and nice and there was lots of water. But then it flooded, and they had to rebuild the town a little higher. And then it flooded again, so they threw up their hands in disgust and rebuilt everything on the tippy top of the hill. And then they got attacked by Vikings and had to built walls around it all and make it otherwise the opposite of ADA (or bike) accessible. Then at last they were left in peace to grumble about going up and down to town, much as I did as I tried–and eventually gave up–biking Lucky uphill on wet pavement hauling his trailer full of our stuff.
We chucked our bikes near a park and walked up to the Cathedral, an absolutely jaw-dropping Gothic affair bristling with gargoyles and flying buttresses (my favorite! Beautiful and practical!) After a quick self-guided tour and a picnic lunch, we were out of time for lingering in Coutances and got on the road to Granville.
I had originally planned to bike a chunk of the Vélomaritime route through Normandy, but the ferry debacle, etc. etc. So, for this day and a part of the following one, we were at the mercy of Google biking directions until we could rejoin our regularly scheduled route. Alas, they re-routed us at one point early on without my realizing it when we made a wrong turn, putting us onto some busy roads and BIG hills for longer than was pleasant. But once I discovered this, I was able to get us back on track, and we veered off onto much more tranquil roads winding through bucolic pastures, little villages, orchards, memorials to downed WWII pilots, and friendly farmers who waved as we passed.
An interesting thing about Google biking directions, at least in Normandy, is that they will put you on bridle paths as long as bikes are permitted. This conduces to an interesting assortment of riding experiences…. On this particular day, Cheryl and I found ourselves at one point instructed to “continue straight” into what looked for all the world to be a bush. I mean, it *might* have been a road…in the 19th century. So, we had to take one of those decisions that you’re forced to in these situations: whether to add mileage and bike around the dubious deerpath, or to forge ahead and hike-a-bike it, crossing your fingers that it’s shorter and less brutal than it looks. We forged ahead, the wrong call: by the time we emerged back onto the road, we were panting, chewed by gnats, covered with mud from head to foot, with branches sticking out of our helmets, desperately wishing we’d just biked around. But we were also both really, really impressed by how well the Bike Friday trailer kit handled the deep, muddy ruts, so hats off to those engineers.
Once we had picked the bark out of our teeth, we continued on the way Google told us…right down someone’s driveway into their barnyard. There were no signs, no nothing, just an older gentleman outside building some steps on his house. So, I sheepishly waved to him and asked if it were possible to taste some cider or if we were in the wrong place? Monsieur le Gerard immediately jumped up and said, “Bien sûr!” And so we spent the next hour with him back and forth between English and French learning about his biodynamic orchard with 15 varieties of cider apples, his hives of pollinating bees, and his herd of Gascony and Jersey cows, which he raises for meat but which keep the weeds down in the orchard and fertilize the trees in the meantime. Then, we tasted his fermier cider, which is made in the old way with no preservatives, which means the cidery must be kept scrupulously clean and cold. The fermier was fantastic, like no other cider I’ve tasted: a lovely balance of sweet, acid, and bitter with a full, unctuous mouthfeel and a wild array of pastoral aromas. We bought a bottle plus a second of a more traditional “brut” and solemnly promised its maker to keep them under 12° C so they wouldn’t explode. And then we immediately chucked them in Lucky’s trailer and bounced them down the road for 2 days…. Fortunately, we also got lucky and suffered no explosions.
I’m realizing as I write this that we worked a heck of a lot into this purported half-day of touring…because we also stopped on our way into Granville at Yver Chocolatier, which both of us declared the best chocolate we’d ever tasted–just an amazing combination of velvety-smooth texture and extraordinary clear flavors. (Looks like you can buy it online, but I’m not sure about shipping outside the EU.) We had a couple of dinner recommendations, but by the time we finally got all our stuff hauled up two flights into our lovely (and affordable) apartment at L’Escale Granvillaise, we were done. So, we picked up a couple of surprisingly great burgers with fries from Graines de Burgers on the corner nearby, opened one of our cider bottles as the rain started to pour down outside, and declared the day an unmitigated–if a bit exhausting–success.
The Rookery 